


blood spills as easily as the sun rises.

by arurun



Series: today we stain our hands. [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arurun/pseuds/arurun
Summary: They were in the Mafia, they should've been prepared for such a thing to happen. Ryohei just needed a little time to get over the fact that the blood on his hands won't always be from people he saved.





	blood spills as easily as the sun rises.

**Author's Note:**

> Sasagawa Ryohei takes his first life. And for once, he's quiet and melancholic.

Ryohei was never a religious man. In fact, he was quite the opposite. He was a child that _laughed_  in the face of god.

He was a man that grew up looking only towards the present. He was a man that lived for his ambition towards boxing and his care for his family. He'd never even considered a god in the world. It just wasn't a matter of concern for him.

Ryohei was a man that lived in the present, oblivious and unthinking. Like many of us now in the world-- he was just a normal man with an unsavory passion for boxing and loud hollering.

Then, he met the Vongola's First Generation Sun Guardian. A man of religion, a speaker of Christianity-- Father Knuckle. Knuckle was a boxer just like him-- but he had retired after a morbid incident that involved accidental murder in a competition.

 _Why?_  Ryohei wondered at first.  _Why would he quit?_

He didn't understand. It almost sounded ridiculous to Ryohei. 

 _Knuckle was a strong boxer._ Ryohei didn't need to know the man personally to understand that. Ryohei was a man that loved boxing with his heart, and he believed nothing could stop that love. Nothing could beat out this passion of his from his heart-- not even his wife, but he wasn't going to tell her that.

Was Knuckle not the same?

 _Why priesthood, of all things?_  There were many directions to go after retiring from boxing, so why  _religion?_  It almost sounded highly ridiculous. Like some cliche story you'd read in an evangelistic article, or hear from as a testimony from random people in church. Ryohei never wrapped his mind around those things-- these things were just irrelevant to him, in the end.

But Ryohei faintly knew that one day, as he eventually grows up in the underworld, he would solve these mysteries. He would come to understand the why of all these things-- and at that time, he will truly understand what those people faced in this painful decision of change.

 

 

 _Perhaps,_  a thought that rose in his mind,  _I would understand why on the day I make my first kill._

But he shoved the thought away.

 _No,_  he reminded himself, _I shouldn't kill._

 

He also knew that being in the Mafia meant that really wasn't possible.

 

-

 

His opponent was a boxer, just like him.

His opponent had good form, just like him.

Ryohei had been happy when he realized that similarity. After all, it'd been quite some time since he had boxed against someone in a mutually agreed fair fight to knockout. No one in the mansion could spar with him, as the only man with experience was an older Butler or two that was growing too old; or a few younger butlers that stood no chance. Ryohei was getting a little rusty around the edges, if he had to admit.

"Fair play?" the other man smirked.

"Absolutely," Ryohei's reply was accompanied by his own smirk.

In this Mafia society of Flames and Boxes, it was by pure coincidence that both boxers had weapons that complimented their fighting style.

But in this round of similarly skilled punchers, their _weapons_ decided the match.

And Ryohei underestimated his own weapon.

(Or perhaps, he overestimated his opponent's weapon. After all, he never thought the Vongola box Weapon would overpower normal box weapons that much.)

 

-

His eyes were wide. Nothing went through his mind.

His Box Weapon returned to being just a fancy bangle at his arm, but that didn't change anything. It didn't change the dark red splattered at the wall, it didn't change the mangled corpse he was now seeing.

It didn't change the fact that this man who was moving just a moment ago wasn't anymore, and wouldn't ever again.

 

Ryohei was never new to blood. He was, after all, a healer.

When any two of the guardians started fighting, it usually resulted with the nastiest of gashes, a lot of broken furniture, and a grumpy, reluctant truce as they made their way to Ryohei. Ryohei would then immediately light his ring in concern, and perhaps get a little angry at the unnecessary cause of injury. A petty report to Tsuna was something he'd do to prove his point.

Ryohei's flames were calm and warm, a stark contrast to his burning nature of might and excitement. Sun flame users were always the oddballs of the group-- none of them exuded the warmth and care you'd expect the healer to have. 

But this-- this, he knew, would not be fixed by _measly_ Sun Flames. 

This- This  **death** , could not be healed.

Healers are people that mended wounds. 

They decreased the bloodshed, lowered the loss of lives in a battle.  _  
_

 

_What healer am I, if I'm the one that causes the wound?  
_

_I created more bloodshed, and I took I life?_

 

He was an extremely hypocritical,  **bloody excuse**  of a healer, that's what.

His fists clenched, he bit his bottom lip, but no tears threatened to spill. The back of his throat burned, and he wanted nothing more than to scream out loud in utter frustration, claw his hair out, curl up and punch himself in the face for this.

He saw the old Vongola Ring on his hands. The A-class ring that was made in replication to the original Vongola Ring-- the other having been transformed into a bangle, this was for decoration-- for purposes of battling without the Gear.

Ryohei's thoughts shot back to Knuckle. To the priest that joined a vigilante company, to the one that became a Mafia yet never turned from his beliefs. To Knuckle's story and his testimony-- to his legacy; to his will. To Father Knuckle.

And for the first time in his life, Sasagawa Ryohei apologized to God.

 

-

 

"Woah, there were a lot of 'em over there! Are you done over here. Senpai?"

Ryohei had been picking up his enemy's rings when he heard the voice. The rings were for Storm Flames, but he could give it to Hayato, maybe.

When Takeshi stepped into view, there was a short pause in his steps before he continued to walk towards the Sun Guardian. Takeshi looked around the scene, his eyes downcast and his face set in a frown.

"Quite a battle, eh?" Takeshi suggested, his tone a little duller than usual.

And Ryohei let out a dry chuckle. "Pretty much."

The whole scene was quite gruesome, but Ryohei was pretty spotless except for a stain on the cuff of his pants. He had wiped off the blood on his skin with his handkerchief-- the precious yellow handkerchief that was now stained a shade of red that didn't suit him.

He picked up the rings and stood back up.

Takeshi was calling someone. They spoke in Italian, and with just bits and pieces of speech, Ryohei guessed that Takeshi was calling up Kyoya or Mukuro to fix up this mess.

When he hung up, he sighed and stretched.

"Well then, Senpai," he brought a wide smile onto his face, "Wanna get some Pasta on the way home?" he laughed, a bright, beaming Yamamoto trademark grin on his face

That smile seemed to ease up the tension in Ryohei's chest.

_Well yeah, he's the Rain._

"Let me wash my handkerchief first, at least." Ryohei sighed contentedly.

 

-

 

"We're back, Tsuna!" Ryohei greeted him upon return.

He shut the door behind him, speaking in a forcefully hushed tone as it was nearly 3AM. Ever since one time Ryohei woke the whole mansion up, Kyoya had taken special measures to ensure the Sun Guardian wouldn't do it again.

(Tsuna was honestly grateful the Sun Guardian didn't resist the restriction much.)

"Welcome back, Nii-san..." Tsuna greets back solemnly. 

"Hm?" Ryohei raised an eyebrow, "anything wrong, Tsuna?"

Tsuna usually wasn't this dispirited, even at this ungodly hour. Ryohei was always welcomed with open arms and a beaming smile, words of praise and yells of 'shut up!'. 

But Tsuna looked almost depressed at the Sun Guardian's return. 

"I've... I've heard from Takeshi," Tsuna speaks up hesitantly. His face was downcast, his eyebrows scrunched up in worry and concern, but his head did not lift. 

Ryohei's eyes narrowed.  _Damn that Takeshi, I was going to extremely tell Tsuna myself!_  He knows how Tsuna gets regarding this. 

_Well, it's the fourth time, so it's about time Tsuna got immune to it._

"I'm-" he he was swallowing every word, unable to look up and meet his Sun Guardian's eye, "I'm really sorry, Nii-san." he said, "I'm really sorry-" 

Ryohei laughed. A hearty chuckle that came with a bright grin. "Oh, c'mon, Tsuna! who do you think I am?" he spoke, "I'm your extreme Sun Guardian! It's about extreme time I joined Mukuro and Kyoya in the 'I-can-extremely-kill-a-person-too-dammit' club too!" 

Tsuna was taken aback.

"Eh-? I mean, wait, Nii-san?"

"Oh, but keep it a secret from Kyoko, alright?" Ryohei added. His reasoning was evident and required no further clarification. "Well then, I'm extremely exhausted! I'll be going back to my room Tsuna!"

And before Tsuna had another word in, Ryohei was gone.

Tsuna sighed in little relief. 

-

Ryohei was unable to settle down. 

He headed to the Sun Floor instead of the Personal Quarters, switched on the lights to the boxing dojo, and took off his coat. And for hours he was just punching. Punching, hitting, kicking at the sand-filled sack--

His 50th punch broke his third bag, but he wasn't ready to stop. 

He was sweating now, breathing ragged as he was unable to compose himself well enough to balance them out. But he wasn't about to tell himself to calm down.

He just needed an outlet. He just needed somewhere to unleashed this deep, deep feeling inside of him.

This feeling that couldn't be released no matter how hard he yelled. He bit his bottom lip, resisting the urge to make too much noise. Resisting the urge to just scream.

"Oh shut the FUCK up, Lawn Head!" Gokudera Hayato burst into the dojo, "It's fucking 3AM!!" 

That interrupted his entire being, and all the panic just dissipated in that second. Breathing out now, he snapped towards the door quickly.

Hayato was glaring. He was dressed in his suit, but he had probably been asleep. His clothes were disheveled and messy. Eye bags sagged at his eyelids, dark circles showing he hadn't had enough rest. 

"Oh- Haya-" Ryohei gulped, composing himself as he heard his voice crack in a whimper, "Hayato, what brings you here?" he tried forcing out a grin, but a smile was all he could manage.

 _Hayato,_  he realized, _That's right, the Storm Floor is right above._

Hayato sighed. "I dozed off in my office," he started, gritting his teeth. "And your stupid ass woke me the fuck up from my first sleep in ages! Do you have any idea how much I have to do to settle the bills for all the damages you morons cause??" 

Ryohei chuckled dryly, "Sorry, sorry!" he dismissed the issue, "But at least I woke you back up so you could continue doing it!" 

Hayato tutted. "Just go and sleep it off, like you usually do when you're injured." 

Ryohei lifted his head in surprise.  _What did he just say?_

But before Ryohei got to ask, Hayato tutted. "You better be fucking quiet now," he groaned, "if I hear you down here again you're gonna explain to the Tenth why I busted a wall in the middle of the night," he waved dismissively.

And Ryohei felt his nerves start to loosen as Hayato turned to leave.

-

"Uh-" a soft, feminine voice spoke up, "Excuse me?"

Ryohei turned to the door in alarm as he heard the noise.

Chrome recoiled, ducking away at the sudden gaze before peeking back out. "Uh, Ryohei-san," she spoke up softly, "would you like some... coffee?"

Ryohei was lightly taken aback by the sudden offer. It was 3AM, why was she even awake? Chrome usually never spoke to him, mainly because their personalities were polar opposites. Of course, the Sun Guardian wanted to get along with her-- he was an older brother, after all. Chrome was just like Kyoko to him. He just wished he could be at least a Hibari Kyoya to her.

So when she offered, Ryohei decided the mature approach was to accept. They headed down to the kitchen, to find Rokudo Mukuro already there, boiling up some hot water. 

"Good morning," Mukuro greeted with a smile.

"Good morning!" Ryohei greeted back. He had learned better than to question his presence. He'd never get an answer anyways.

"Good morning, Mukuro-sama." Chrome greeted shyly.

The two settled down as Mukuro placed down three mugs of coffee on the little kitchen table. Taking a sip each, they sighed in unison.

"So," Mukuro started, "How was your first kill?" he went straight to the point, giving Ryohei was terribly amused close-eyed-smile, his fingers interlocked under his chin in a 'please, go on' manner. 

Ryohei choked and coughed.

Chrome blew on her coffee again, taking another careful sip.

Ryohei sighed, putting his serious face back on. "It didn't feel good," he admitted, "I was boxing-- but this was the first time I've ever felt so many bones break at once," he looked at his hands, "I could tell-- I could tell that bones weren't the only thing I destroyed." 

Ryohei didn't know how he was just spilling all of this. Maybe it was because gore was something Mukuro could speak about over dinner.

"It felt disgusting." he said, "It felt.."

Ryohei trailed off, and fell silent. 

Chrome, who sat beside him, leaned over and dropped her head on his shoulder. This made Ryohei jolt in surprise, looking over. And this little action, because it was Chrome that did it, spoke a thousand words to Ryohei. 

Mukuro chuckled. "It's quite unfortunate that a man with such thoughts of death uses his fists as his weapons." he simply said, "It's ironic that a doctor such as yourself would be using his hands to kill."

Ryohei bit his lip, "So," he sounded as annoyed as he felt, "what are you trying to tell me?"

Mukuro was unaffected by the hostile tone. His smile stayed on, his eyes stayed strong. "There's really no need to fear Death," Mukuro eyed Ryohei, "a doctor is a man that defies Death, no?"

-

Ryohei walked back to his quarters, the dark and dimly lit area looking serenely haunted, but he didn't really mind. Ryohei wasn't one to be spooked by sudden voices in the dark, so he merely turned and made his way towards it. 

He spotted a silhouette in the other end of the corridor. A tall silhouette-- holding-- ah, that was a tonfa, wasn't it? The orange light made it difficult to see, but his hair was black so that was probably-

"Oh, Kyoya!" he greeted as they got close enough to see each other. A smile on his face, he held a hand up in a wave, "On patrol?" he asked.

The Cloud guardian replied with a light hum, dismissing the Sun Guardian any further. 

The Sun Guardian reached his room and reached for the electrical lock. He put in the numbers, and the door opened.

"See ya in the morning, Kyoya!" he grinned at Hibari. "Let's have a spar in the morning!" he suggested, knowing it's been a while since they've both been back in the mansion at the same time. He really would like a little fight with Hibari once in a while. 

"Only if you're stronger by then," Kyoya mumbled in a low tone. "if you're weak, I'll simply bite you to death, no holds barred." 

And Ryohei chuckled, not thinking much of the comment.

-

A party popper cracked in his face when he returned to his room.

"Wha-??"

"Welcome Home, Ryohei," his loving wife Hana greeted, a warm smile on her features as she wrapped her arms around her husband.

Hana, as a worker of CEDEF, wore a businesswoman's suit, complete with a pencil skirt and a pair of glasses. Her curly hair was cropped to a shorter length than it was during their junior high days, and Ryohei hadn't gone a day without telling her how stunning she was.

Ryohei chuckled. "I'm Home! what brings you to the Mansion, Hana?"

But as he reached out to return the hug, he froze. He stopped and he hesitated. His hands hung in the arm, shaking ever so slightly.

_Huh?_

His eyes widen in mortification as the image of that corpse he created overlapped with his wife.

And he gently pushed her away.

Hana was confused. _Hm?_ Usually, it'd be Ryohei that would engulf her in a bone-crushing hug, especially if she had just returned from a mission that lasted a whole week!

It didn't take a genius to figure out something was wrong.

"Ryohei?" she inquired, "Did... something happen?"

At that, Ryohei's fists tightened and he looked down, his face stuck in a frown and his eyes not meeting Hana's.

"I'm sorry, Hana..." he lifted his hands hesitantly and eyed the bandages on his knuckles and his palm-- and he bit his bottom lip. He felt something burn at the back of his throat. He felt like he was going to cry.

 _Cry?_ That almost sounded hilarious to Ryohei. After all, a  **true**  man would never show tears, especially in front of a woman.

And so Ryohei clenched his eyes shut and hope tears wouldn't form. "I'm sorry Hana... but I can't," he admitted. "I'll- I'll sleep in the infirmary tonight."

And that told Hana the answer she needed.

She took Ryohei's hands in hers, and smiled.


End file.
